Kiss of Death
by Percentile
Summary: Craig realises Tweek just can't kiss. Pointless little one-shot.


In hindsight it would have made far less sense if Tweek had been able to do it. If he'd taken it to a duck like water, well that, that would have been fucked up. It made sense that he couldn't. It was completely understandable. Hell, all the clues had been there. He'd never done it before, not properly, at any rate. He was _Tweek_. Still, it'd just never occurred to Craig that this was something Tweek wouldn't be able to do. He'd just assumed that everyone knew how to do it. Like it was coded into your DNA or something.

But Tweek couldn't. Not to say he didn't give it the good ol' college try. He tried. He tried so hard, so, so fucking hard. Every time, it was nothing but jerky, caffeine fuelled effort. Craig was pretty sure that's what caused the majority of the problems. Nothing, in life ever, should require as much effort as Tweek put into this. Craig was pretty damn sure women didn't put that much effort into giving birth.

It'd frightened Craig half to death the first time Tweek had tried it. He'd just kind of leapt, literally leapt, like a toad after you've hit it with a rock, he leapt across the sofa, straddled Craig, and latched onto him like a feral cat. At this point, everything was going well. There's nothing wrong with an eager start. I mean, that's how people win sprints. You start eager. It's just, it got worse from there.

Tweek had clearly learnt to kiss watching some pretty fucked up films. He kind of just, opened his mouth. Wide. Wide enough for Craig to be fucking sure he'd dislocated his jaw, just clicked it right out like a python who was about to gulp down a wildebeest. He then pressed his gaping coffee hole against Craig's slightly parted lips, and sucked.

The combination of shaking, sucking, and terrifying jaw dislocation was far from sexy. For a second Craig wasn't sure what was going on; it kind of felt like Tweek was trying to suck the air out of his lungs, suck out his very soul. It was horrifying. But what could he do? If he stopped Tweek now, it would be like startling a deer. That thing would bolt right off into the woods. He'd never see it again. Not ever.

So he put up with it. Because it was Tweek. He didn't want to hurt Tweek, he didn't want to upset him, not one bit. He just couldn't bring himself to say anything. I mean, how do you tell someone they kiss like a succubus without really upsetting them?

So Craig just went with it. He just sat there, ridged and uncomfortable, he just prayed. He prayed Tweek would get better at this.

He didn't. It got worse. One day Tweek decided to force his coffee stained tongue down Craig's throat. Literally, his entire tongue. As far down Craig's throat as it would go. It was like the world's most fucked up murder attempt. Craig didn't know whether he was going to choke on Tweek's tongue or suffocate through Tweek's desperate attempt to suck the air out his lungs. He just knew he was moments away from death.

"Jesus fuck stop it!" The words and the action had been autonomous. He'd not meant to push Tweek away, certainly not with as much force. It'd just been his body's natural survival instincts kicking in. He didn't want his face to be plastered under some stupid headline. Probably 'Kiss of Death' for the tasteful papers. Maybe 'The Gay Claims First Victim: Teens Be Warned You Will Be Next' for the more right-wing publications.

No, he wanted to live at least long enough to die in a much cooler way.

Tweek was staring at him, blinking. He unlatched his vice-grip with a violent jerk, wrenching himself away from Craig. He'd have fallen backwards right off Craig's lap and sprinted away, had Craig not lunged out and gripped a handful of Tweek's shirt.

"But-But I thought… I thought you _wanted _this?!"

"Yeah I do, _I really do_. But…"

Tweek looked like he was about to cry. Or fall apart. Or hit someone. Or a delightful combination of all three.

"But why… If you wanted this, w-why would you push me?!"

"I do want this Tweek. It's just, you're kissing… Fuck Tweek, did you learn that shit on a bad acid trip or _what_?! What the hell?!"

"Jesus Christ, I'm trying my best!"

"I know. Trust me, I _know_. Just don't… Don't try so hard, yeah? Kissing is easy. There is really very little effort needed to do it right."

"But-"

"No, just listen. Watch." He reached forward, gently parting Tweek's lips open, gently pressing their mouths together. Tweek remained ridged, still posed to bolt away at the first loud bang. For a second he just held it there, held their lips together, before pulling slightly back. "See, gently. Easy. No sucking!"

"But-"

Craig didn't let him speak. He pressed his lips back against Tweek's, gently parting them with his tongue, gently flicking it against Tweek's soft palate. With one hand he anchored Tweek against him, slipping it round his back to he could press their chests together. With the other he rearranged Tweek's head, tilting it to the left, tilting it down. Tilting it just right.

It was only when he felt Tweek relax, when he felt Tweek begin to go with it, when he felt the tip of Tweek's tongue pushing against his, rubbing against the tip of his own that he pulled back.

"See, that's now you do it. Easy, gentle. No sucking! No sucking ever."

"But…"

"But?"

"But that's not how Clyde told me to do it! He told me to practice with the vacuum cleaner!"

"He what?!"

"You know, I-I asked him, and he said to just use the vacuum cleaner!"

"He told you to mack with a vacuum cleaner? Are you fucking serious?!"

"Yeah! I-I asked him how to, and he just said like not-not to bother or something. He said just use a vacuum cleaner instead. So I did."

"Right, that makes more sense. No, he wasn't telling you to kiss the vacuum cleaner."

"Then what was he telling me to do w-with the vacuum cleaner?! What the fuck do I need the vacuum cleaner for?"

"We'll deal with all that stuff later, yeah? All that stuff, there'll be sucking then. For now, let's just get the kissing down. We'll deal with this first. Baby steps Tweek, baby steps."


End file.
